


Handled

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley is Dean’s handler at the CIA, and Dean’s fucked up again with his reckless behavior. They fuck over a desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [razielim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/razielim/gifts).



> Inspired by one of razielim's posts on Tumblr.

Dean’s gasping for breath when he skids to a stop, shaking so much the quarter nearly miss their slot. He swallows and punches in the number, glancing around the payphone as he waits. Out the window, he doesn’t see them. Yet.

“ _Hello, how may I help you?_ ”

“Dean Winchester. Gimme Crowley.”

“ _Hold please._ ”

“I’ll try...” he mutters, trying to calm himself down. These guys can smell fear. Come on, he can act casual. Doesn’t matter if the two guys after him are wetworks, Dean’s CIA. He’s been trained for this.

“ _This is the King._ ”

“I don't have it.”

“ _You failed._ ” Crowley pauses, but only for a second. He knows Dean doesn’t have time to waste. “ _Again!_ ”

“I know.” he retorts. “I know, but you can’t blame-”

“ _Save it, cupcake. We’ll talk about this when you get back._ ”

“You’re sending extraction?”

“ _Already sent._ ”

“Are you sure you can swing that? Last time, Lilith said-”

“ _I know what Lilith said. Let me handle Lilith, you get to the roof._ ”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Dean gets back to headquarters, he heads straight for Crowley’s office. Crowley doesn’t look up from his computer when he says “Close the door.”

Dean does, because his job is to do what Crowley says, and Crowley’s job is to keep Dean alive long enough to do it. Dean takes his seat across the desk before he’s instructed. He waits silently for Crowley to finish typing- probably the report for the operation he just fucked up. When he finishes, he pushes the mouse aside. “What exactly is so difficult about ripping a couple files from an unlocked computer?”

“The two agents that knew I was there.”

“I warned you going in.”

“So I avoided the one. I didn’t know about the other.” Dean barely defends. His eyes keep darting.

“You would if you weren’t so careless with these jobs.” Crowley glares and lets out a harsh breath. “This is the fifth operation you’ve lost. Months of planning down the drain, again! Do you know the only thing keeping you from getting blacklisted?”

Dean’s eyes widen at the word, and he shakes his head.

“Me!” Crowley growls. “You’d be back on your arse in Kansas right now if it weren’t for me! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Dean closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Crowley quirks a brow. “Am I hearing this correctly? Is the great Dean Winchester apologizing?

He opens his eyes, only to roll them. “Yes, okay!? Jesus, don’t expect much better...”

Crowley slaps his open palms on the desk and stands. Dean pretends he didn’t flinch. “I expect a lot better. I am your handler. I tell you to do things to make your job easier. I am giving you one last chance, because I seem to think that somewhere under all that protective fake arrogance is more raw talent than any other agent I’ve seen before. I need to see it, or I will shred your file myself.”

Dean blanches. By God, that tone of voice does bad things to him. “I-”

“Shut up.” Crowley retorts. Dean closes his mouth, and crosses his legs strategically. The handler glares, still standing. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

Dean gulps. “You could-”

“I _said_ to shut up! That’s your problem, can’t take a single order!”

 _I can take orders_ , Dean thinks, _if you give me the right ones. Fuck, I think I want to sleep with my handler!_

The older man’s eyes narrow and flit over Dean- the blown-out pupils, parted lips, poorly-veiled tenting. “Aren’t you a sight.” he says, straightening up. “On your knees.”

Dean doesn’t even _think_ about it, just kicks the chair out from under him and does as he’s told. Crowley fucking cackles. “Maybe you can take orders after all.” Dean chances to look up at him, all lust and pleading and sheer amusement to Crowley. “You ever sucked a cock?”

The field agent shakes his head, but wets his lips, and right then he decides he is never going to disobey Crowley _ever again_.


End file.
